Contemplanys Hermi
by Le1a Naberr1e
Summary: In the days before the Clone Wars, two senators meet to discuss the different roles their worlds will play in the conflict.
1. Uninvited Guest

STRESSFUL TIMES: CONTEMPLANYS HERMI

1, Uninvited Guest

At the corner of L'sidi Walkways and Ralgaro, in the area popularly known as the Artist District, stood the exclusive Nié Noir. A dismal looking structure, it had shedding walls and windows gone opaque with grime. To add to its sombreness, the management insisted that its patrons be clad entirely in black. A group of these sombre creatures approached the rusted steel doors of Nié Noir now, looking like a parody of a funeral. This peculiar dress code had probably been suggested by the patrons themselves who were mostly eccentric young artists from and around the neighbouring Art University. The combination of superficial repellents certainly served to maintain the exclusivity of Nié Noir and few outside the bohemian crowd ventured into its interior. 

If they had, they would have had a pleasant surprise. The first sensation would be that of moving walls. Each wall in the cafe had been brightly and elaborately painted with murals depicting scenes from history and legend. There were images of water that looked real enough to rise up and drench one, images of fire that could almost burn of smoke that blurred your vision. And when you finally drew your eyes way from the walls, you could observe on the pieces of sculptured art scattered randomly in the small room, the poignant music drifting from the fingers of a clavis-player at the corner by the counter. If you looked down, you would see an abstract mural embedded into the concrete floor. Depending on your mood, you were either walking in air or sinking into foam. The sea of dark-cloud patrons only served to enhance the beauty of the interior.

It was into this idyllic retreat that Senator Garm Bel Iblis of Corellia stepped into that evening. His athletic body wrapped in long black robes, he moved as confidently and familiarly as any of the other patrons. He nodded to a few familiar faces and threw a wave at the black cloud Rodian behind the bar as he made his way to his usual table by the corner. He was rather disappointed to find someone there. He preferred to dine alone.

"Excuse me", he managed and made to pass over to the next table when the person spoke.

"You're late."

Garm turned.

"I didn't know we had an appointment", he replied calmly, looking down into Bail Organa's face.


	2. Of Pursestrings & Other Innuendo

STRESSFUL TIMES: CONTEMPLANYS HERMI

2, Of Pursestrings & Other Innuendo

On a good day, the two men were friends. Forthrightness and fair dealing were not too common in the Senate Building that one could afford to take it for granted when one recognised in a fellow colleague, even if that colleague was politically one's opposition. In another place and at another time, this meeting would have been a pleasant enough surprise. As it was, Garm fought back a thinly held rage. To start with, the Nié Noir was his retreat on Coruscant. He came here to escape work, mingle with the young idealists and pretend the weight of a world did not rest on his shoulders. It was as far away as possible from the popular, high-profile restaurants favoured by the senators where business was always inevitably mixed with pleasure and even the simple tax of eating was deciphered for implications. It was certainly a change from the even more popular, seedy nightclubs and bars that were equally patronized by his colleagues and - for want of a better definition - contacts.

Now, it was ruined for him forever. He wondered for how long Alderaan Intelligence had watched and scrutinized his activities here. It was stupid to be so offended, of course. Garm was no novice to Galactic politics, he was well aware that his adversaries would always keep a close eye on his activities, and his supposed allies an even closer one. But he had always considered Bail a friend.

He really was starting to get soft.

"Give me a moment, Bail," he murmured blandly, "let me smell the roses a bit before you unleash your claws. And you can buy me a drink while you're at it. The most expensive one on the menu if you mean business."

The white-robed Twilek waiter took their order and was back almost immediately. Garm ostensibly sipped his drink and grinned up at his friend's sombre face. "With that look you fit here like a charm, do you know?" He quipped. "By the way, do you really think this is the place to have the kind of conversation you undoubtedly came here to have?"

Bail smiled wryly. He too could play the game. "Your opinion might count more than mine this time around." He sipped his own drink carefully - he had ordered the same as Garm - and smacked his lips appreciatively.

"Not bad, huh?" Garm commented. "Even better especially since it's coming out of the Royal Pursestrings."

Bail did not so much as flinch. Garm was impressed. When the then young groom of Queen Breha had taken up the reserved appointment in the Alderaan delegation, he had been expected - like his forbears - to only be an honorary Senator and not actively participate in Galactic politics. His attempt to break the mould had been actively discouraged and some political rival's news media had taken to poking fun at the Prince/Senator. One of the more popular slogans then was the Royal Pursestrings, the alias given to his special allowance as Prince Consort. Bail Organa had borne it all with remarkable dignity and had not allowed the smear campaign affect his determination to do a good job. Gradually, he had earned the respect of not only his sceptical colleagues but the very press that had tried to ridicule him. And here he was now, a driving force in the Senate with the ear of the Chancellor himself. It was during that time that the much older Garm had first taken note of the man and had formed a friendship based on mutual respect with him.

A friendship that might soon end.

"So cut to the chase," Garm said, speaking in the informal Corellian Basic that he was most comfortable with. "What do you think you have on me?"

Bail lifted his coat and put in his hand. Garm stiffened. The hand came out with a thick plasti-paper in its grip. Garm relaxed and felt foolish. Was he starting to become paranoid?

Bail slid the plasti-paper blank face up across the wet table. Garm made a mock-grimace as he picked it up and turned it over.

The little humour in his body left him.

For a full minute, Garm stared silently at the paper while the wheels in his brain turned over a selection of lessening options. Then he finally spoke: "For once, you and I definitely see eye to eye on something. Indeed, my opinion does count more in this situation."

He drew out a pen and wrote clearly on the blank side of the sheet and he slid it across to Bail Organa.

He got up. "It was nice bumping into you, Bail. Thanks for the drink. And don't forget - they only take credits."

He passed through the beautiful room without pausing to appreciate the atmosphere. He knew it was not paranoia that made him sense more than one pair of eyes on his back just before he passed through the swinging doors.


	3. Twilight in the Garden

**STRESSFUL TIMES: CONTEMPLANYS HERMI**

**3, Twilight in the Garden**

_Greenhouse Three _

1300 hours

Although there was no speeder or air taxi in sight when he alighted from his private vehicle at the entrance to the Greenhouse, Bail Organa expected to be received and he was not disappointed.

The Greenhouse was one of several that decorated the Ambassadorial District of Coruscant. Like everything in Coruscant now, it had a political history and had been commissioned by some earlier government not secondarily for the purpose of ornamentation and primarily as a means of uniting the various systems and their cultures through their non-sentient botanical life forms. There were twelve greenhouses in all and assumedly, every species in the known Galaxy was represented in at least one Greenhouse. This inadvertedly meant that not all the Greenhouses shared universally aesthetic appeal - or even environmentally conduciveness - for spectators. Greenhouse Five, for example, was best viewed by the human species through the 20-centimetre thick dura-glass. The consequences of not doing so were best left to the imagination.

Greenhouse Three housed plants of the more human-friendly genre: including samples from Alderaan, Naboo, Corellia and even, Tatooine. It was a two-storey glass house that contained an active ecosystem of plants. Once upon a time, he had been a frequent visitor here. He had discovered for himself the pockets of privacy located between large plants and imitation forests and used them to isolate himself from the tourists and school excursions and the couples that came in the evenings. He had found it a conducive place to relax and free himself from the constraints and the posturing of his office.

How long ago had he been here? Bail wondered now. When had he become so consumed with work that his naturally aesthetic nature had been reduced to feeding on dead art and high culture? He had known of Garm's little hang-out a long time ago and he had always planned on exploring it for himself. Why hadn't he?

Garm Bel Iblis was at the west corner of the first floor. He glanced up briefly at the sound of Bail's footsteps.

"Why hello, Bail. Fancy bumping into you again."

Bail gave their surroundings a cursory glance. A large potted plant with leaves that were metres across shaded them from the night sky peeping through the glass roof. He had not met anyone on his way up and to the best of his knowledge the greenhouse was deserted. But he still gave Garm a questioning stare.

Garm shook his head and the men engaged in idle chit-chat for a few minutes. Then the Corellian glanced at his watch, ostensibly to check the time, confirmed that the emergency spy sweep had been completed and then turned to grin broadly at the younger man.

Garm shrugged. "Unless it's technology that came out within the past twenty days - which I don't doubt in the least, then I think we can speak freely."

Bail sighed. "I suppose that will have to do."

Garm felt his eyebrows rise. "You are keeping on your toes, aren't you? That's paranoid, even for you. But again maybe I am wrong. You seem to be losing your touch after all. I definitely expected this little tête-à-tête a lot sooner than now. Which was it - over-confidence in your powers of persuasion or laxity on the part of your employees?"

"I gather that you understand of the purpose of my visit," replied Bail dryly.

"Let's not jump into conclusions here," retorted Garm. "You showed me some old scrap of paper... jotted out what seems to be a bit of my private bank account statement and a few disjointed Corellian business deals. You're no fool so I'll cut to the chase. So you see a pattern in certain Corellian commerce dealings. We've been closing a lot of deals and paying off a lot of protracted contractors. My bank statement is suspect. It might be a bit hard on me if I wanted to run for Chancellor... but I don't think that's what you think I'm working at. So spill it: what do you know… and more to the point, what do you want to do with it?"

"I've heard that the Corellian government is exploring certain options… holding certain debates…" Bail looked at Garm expectantly.

Garm snorted. "You need to be a lot more specific than that if you want anything out of me."

Bail looked at him directly.

"Contemplanys Hermi."

The ripple of anger that ran through Garm surprised him. It took more than instinct to keep his face blank. Instead, he glared up at the wavering leaves of the overhanging plant.

His wry voice was acid when he broke the silence. "I have another impertinent question; which was it: the plasti-paper that the new receptionist threw into the trash bin instead of the incinerator yesterday or the datapad that was stolen along with her jewelry from my aide last week? You see, security lapses can never be completely eliminated but they should always be anticipated for times like this."

Bail heaved a large sigh. "You are not denying it."

Garm snorted. The anger had not subsided. "Spare me, Bail. When should I be expecting an emergency meeting with Palpatine?"

"Give me some respect, Garm!" Bail snapped.

Garm looked away from the plant to give Bail a cold glare. "Believe you me, you have all the respect already."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You have the Chancellor's ear, don't you? I wonder what opinion of this matter you chose to share with him."

Years of political training helped Bail keep the outrage from his face. Barely. "If the Chancellor is aware of this matter, I was not his source. And I am no sycophant, I don't play those games."

"The opposite of sycophant was what I implied," Garm retorted. "And spare me the self-righteous act."

Bail took in a visible breath. "I came here for a civil discussion; regardless of your own special brand of tactics, I am going to have it."

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	4. Ode to An Ideal

STRESSFUL TIMES: CONTEMPLANYS HERMI

4, Ode to an Ideal

The quiet hostility mollified Garm better than any diplomatic appeasing. Almost immediately, the anger subsided.

"So you haven't told Palpatine?" He wanted to be sure.

"No."

"And Amidala? Because if you've told her, you might as well have -"

"You seriously underestimate the two of us, Garm," snapped Bail. "Our loyalties are with the Chancellor but we are still independent thinkers."

"Amidala is Naboo and so is Palpatine. You've been allying yourself with them ever since you came to Coruscant."

Bail's lips thinned. "Garm, you are entitled to your own theories but I am not hear to lobby for votes. I'm here for the truth. Speak plainly, have you decided to secede?"

Garm felt another flash of irritation. Where did Bail Organa come from, asking him to speak plainly? It was Bail who was perfecting Palpatine's own brand of sugar-coated politics. Garm had never felt the need to disguise his opinions. It was a Corellian characteristic and he was proud of it: speak your mind; at best if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything.

"Needless to say," Garm said, plainly. "you did not major in Military Legalistic in your Academy. Contemplanys Hermi means ..."

"I know what it means. What I want to know is why you are taking that option at all. Do you expect me - or anyone else for that matter - to believe that you are sitting on the sidelines because you are not considering allying with the Separatists?"

"Corellia has always been a pacifist, isolationist Sector," murmured Garm.

"Until their non-pacifist, non-isolationist Senator was appointed," retorted Bail. "Tell me, Garm, where exactly do your sympathies lie in this secession matter?"

Garm looked up at the plant again. When he spoke, his voice was suddenly serious. "Dooku's arguments are very solid."

Bail breathed visibly. "His arguments border on treachery."

"His arguments border on ambition," Garm corrected. "And so do the arguments of the members of the so-called Loyalist Committee and that of every other major and minor player in the Senate including yourself and our beloved Chancellor. Our fellow lawmakers are corrupt and acquisitive; the Republic is rotting from its apex. Dooku's philosophies are self-serving but they are by no means unfounded."

Bail breathed again. "So you are seceding?"

"We are doing nothing of the sort. We are - or rather, we are going to - leave you guys to clean up your own mess. Corellia is not interested in being dragged into a bloody dispute in order to satisfy the power lusts of Dooku or Palpatine."

Bail laughed unpleasantly. "And, do you honestly think the Separatists are going to allow you to sit on the fence? Do you think that all the systems that have seceded of recent months are doing so because the persuasiveness of Dooku's philosophies?"

"Thank you for your concern," Garm replied sarcastically, at the same time wondering if Bail's accusation was entirely unfounded or whether it was based on something else uncovered by Alderaan Intelligence. "But we can take care of ourselves."

There was another speculative silence. He could practically see the wheels turning in Bail's head as the younger man prepared another argument.

"We are doing everything we can to prevent this conflict from becoming military," he said ponderously. "Between the Alderaanian Diplomatic Corps and Amidala's Campaign Against Republic Militarization, it is very likely that no widespread galactic war will occur."

"Amidala has been exiled. The Vote has been postponed indefinitely until her return and the Campaign has been stalled as well. Do you really think these are more than mere coincidences?" He glanced at Bail to catch the other man's reaction.

"Of course, they are not!" snapped Bail. Garm's eyebrows went up ever so slightly. The times when his counterpart from Alderaan lost his temper were few and far between. "Do you really believe that a group of miners from her country planted a bomb on her ship because of refugee land allotments!"

"So, you think it was the Separatists that engineered it," sneered Garm. "How convenient."

"You've been paying too much attention to Count Dooku's speeches," Bail said coldly. "He was once a Jedi you know. His powers of persuasion far supersede any of ours."

Garm couldn't help it. He laughed. "That is damn right. 'Cos it seems to me that neither of us is going to bend anytime soon. But what else is new, huh Bail? The taxes Alderaan wants to up are the ones Corellia wants to drop; your Bill for Education reform is counter-productive to our Institutional policies... And even when we don't know how it's going to effect the other, we just join the opposition out of habit." He felt his eyes crinkling.

Bail managed a small smile. "Politically, we've never stood on the same side of the white chalk." His expression became earnest once more. "But this is not just about politics. It's about the freedom of the people of the Republic - the people of Corellia - your people. It's for our system of democracy as we know it. Dooku is not going to be satisfied with preaching sedition and political secession - "

"He's not?" Garm murmured. "You know this for a fact."

Bail gave him a level glance. "I tell you this on good authority."

That hardly impressed Garm. He might have still been lying. But Garm's instincts did not think so. But in the end, it did not make any difference.

"Bail," he said, heavily and the tone of his voice told Organa that he had made up his mind. "I could spin you some yarn about giving me time to think things through then I'll tidy up my affairs and send down our statement from Corellia ten days later. But, I respect you too much for that. I've made my decision about this matter. And I'm not going to try and persuade my Government into doing something that all my guts are telling me not to." He reached over and clasped his friend's shoulder firmly. "Contemplanys Hermi, my friend. We are not going over to the bad guys. We just want to sit back and watch how things play, alright?"

"And join the winning team?" Bail said calmly but his face was closed.

Garm sighed. "Corellia is not Alderaan. We have different standings, different priorities in the Republic. We can't afford to..." He drew another deep breath. "But I'm wasting both our times trying to convince you, aren'I. You have already made up your mind."

"You give me no reason to change it, Bail said plainly.

"Woe betide me if I attempt to knock you off your high horse of righteousness!" Garm replied cheerily. "All I ask is that you do me just one favour. Will you give me your word as a Prince," - he smirked - "that this matter will remain under wraps and all your little people will keep their traps shut until we Corellian decide to air our own dirty laundry."

Bail's face closed even further. Garm held his breath.

Then the Viceroy of Alderaan bowed stiffly. "You have my word, my old friend." He turned sharply on his heel and walked away.

A few minutes later, Garm heard the doors of the greenhouse slide open and shut. He was now entirely alone in a house full of plants.

My 'old' friend. It was not subtle. It had not been meant to be. But Bail had given him his word and that was all that mattered. Garm switched on his COM and called for his private vehicle; then he pulled out his datapad and scrolled down his appointments. He had an early meeting tomorrow with the Representatives from Pandora. The sooner he closed that deal with them and terminated Corellia's connection with Inner Core worlds, the better.

He had a job to do.

But the Corellian Senator remained a little longer in the Greenhouse and watched the plants wave in the small breeze.

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_Fin._

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